My father has a problem. Well, my father has more than one problem, but there's no point in getting into all my familial drama online. My father works as a Union Carpenter in the greater NYC area. Currently, he may or may not be working for one of the big three governmental organizations in one of the five boroughs. There's incredibly tall and heavy metal studs, machines that lift you in the air so you can screw plywood and itchy, bulletproof drywall to them, sign-in sheets and badges and officials galore. The problem though? His shit keeps getting stolen.
I've recently come across a series of problems ever since I upgraded my home. For starters, I seem to have a lot more company than I used to have when my home wasn't considered "smart." Secondly, smart isn't always as smart as it claims to be. Allow me to explain.
I'm one of those weird people that loves it when it's wet. I know it sounds a little farfetched, but if you follow the logic that going to the beach is only worth it if you actually go into the ocean, you'll start to see what I mean.
I am not unlike most men when it comes to my body temperature. Sure, there may be an insulated section around my tummy affectionately referred to as a spare tire, but I'm sure that has nothing to do with my inability to handle hot weather. Thankfully dad bod is in, and when I'm sleeping, I like to snuggle up as much as anyone. Snuggling isn't nearly as effective though if it's not already cold.
I can confidently say that I have more pictures of my dogs than I do of my family on my phone. It's not something I'm very vocal about, but it is something I'm pretty happy with. I mean, with faces like those? Come on.Being the neurotic person that I am though, I'm stuck turning over thoughts in my head about how they must be bored at home alone all day. Occasionally too, all the horrible things that can happen to them if a short circuit were to light the curtains on fire or if someone broke into my house pop into my head and send me into an absolute panic. They are just tiny dogs! And though these worst case scenario thoughts are horrific, they make me worry about the safety of my pets.
Did somebody say caffeine?! God knows it's the first thing I want to hear in the morning. I don't care if it's Colombian, Peruvian, Kenyan, Indonesian, Australian, or from anywhere else on the Coffee Belt, there's no denying the magical properties of this king among produce. I've often thought of just having the coffee beans shipped directly to my house so I can spend the entire day chewing on them.